


Head to Head

by ros3bud009



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Jokes, Brief Mention of Swerve's Crush on Blurr, Competition, Daddy Kink That Starts as a Joke But I Don't Know That It Ends as a Joke, Deepthroating, M/M, Manhandling, Multi, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:25:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15771288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: Based on the prompt:Grimlock/Misfire/Swerve with misfire and swerve seeing who can take more of grims spike down their throat because they’re our favorite big mouthed boys-----------------------“But—but also, I mean, I like Misfire a lot, and I know how important to him you are, so I want to get to know you too.”Misfire could hear the smirk in Grimlock’s voice as he said, “By seeing who can swallow more of my spike.”





	Head to Head

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, came back to these boys much sooner than I had expected, but when I see a good prompt, I have to do something.
> 
> (prompt can be found at: https://maccadams-filthy-fills.tumblr.com/day/2018/08/04/ )
> 
> It's also the single longest smut scene I think I've ever written, so. Woohoo?

“You sure about this?”

“This isn’t new territory for us,” Misfire said dismissively as he palmed at Grimlock’s modesty panel. The warmth of the metal gave away the fact that Grimlock hardly disliked the idea.

And Grimlock did snort as he replied, “I know you’ll survive.”

However, the panel stayed firmly locked.

And Grimlock’s visor dimmed as his helm turned.

“I’m not convinced there won’t be a casualty though.”

And a laugh bubbled up from behind Misfire.

“I think that might be the first time anyone has ever doubted how big of a mouth I’ve got,” Swerve said, flashing a wide grin when Misfire turned his helm around to look at the minibot. And, alright, Misfire had to admit, the fact that Swerve’s pedes dangled as he sat on the edge of the berth really did only emphasize his minibot status.

But Misfire also had firsthand experience with how easily Swerve had swallowed his spike down to the base and hummed around him with a kind of genuine satisfaction that Misfire knew very, very well.

“Trust me, Grim. He’s a pipsqueak, but he’s got two big exceptions.” Misfire lifted his free servo to hold up a single digit and then a second as he said, “He’s got a big spark, and he’s got a big ol’ mouth that on a good day might even give  _me_  a run for my money.”

“‘Might’? I’ve been running this bad boy so long you might as well crown it the Ibex Cup champion.”

“Puh-lease. My mouth is the Blurr of mouths.”

“Explains why I want to frag it.”

“That’s weird but also got me a little hard, so thanks,” Misfire said as he gave Swerve a thumbs up. Swerve gave him two in return.

Grimlock ex-vented with fond exasperation.

“The two of you really were forged for each other.”

“Oh, definitely,” Misfire agreed, taking a moment to enjoy watching how that made Swerve squirm, his thighs squeezing together as he no doubt got hard and wet behind his panels from the casual confirmation of their quick but already steel-strong bond. Anything even compliment adjacent got Swerve hot, and Misfire was quickly learning how to take advantage of it.

But then Misfire turned back to focus on Grim, reaching up to touch the side of his face. “But I’ve already told you that you’re stuck with me, Grim, which means we’re all stuck together now, and  _that_ means we all gotta frag eventually. And I  _know_ you’ve been eyeing that sweet little aft.”

And he had. Misfire could still remember how his spike had thumped against his modesty panel when he noticed the way Grimlock’s visor followed Swerve, bright with interest. There was nothing like knowing his current beau was also into his prospective beau to turn Misfire’s valve into a veritable slip-and-slide.

This was going to be epic. All Misfire had to do was get those last two pieces to frag each other to finish this sexy puzzle.

Never mind the fact that it also made Misfire’s spark flip in a weird but decidedly pleasant way.

“Think you missed a logical step there, but I do want to frag ‘im,” Grimlock admitted with ease. There was no missing the sputtering of cooling fans kicking on in a rush from behind Misfire, and if Swerve hadn’t already been DTF, he was now.

“Then we’ve got no issues, so sit back and let Daddy’s favorite spike come out to play.”

Grimlock’s visor offlined as he said with distaste, “You’ve been watching human porn again.”

“Ok but it was Swerve’s idea this time.”

“Yeah, no, that’s definitely my fault.”

“I did it right that time, didn’t I? I’ve been practicing.”

“That was top-notch porn dialogue. Proper use of the term Daddy. But can I say that it might even be too good?”

“Your critique is noted and I think you’re right. Porn dialogue isn’t nearly as sexy as that was.”

“That wasn’t sexy at all,” Grimlock insisted, his visor now hidden behind one of his massive palms.

Misfire looked over his shoulder, shaking his helm sadly at Swerve as he said, “No appreciation for the art of Daddy kink.”

Swerve had a servo over his face as well, but it was firmly over his mouth to muffle his laughter. It was adorable. But his other servo was between his tightly clamped thighs, and that was fragging hot.

Almost as hot as Grimlock’s panel, despite his exasperation.

“You’re never going to shut up unless I put my spike in your mouth, are you?”

“Now that is both a very sexy thing to say and very true,” Misfire replied, and this time Grimlock did chuckle, the rumbling of it vibrating against Misfire’s servo.

Misfire wanted to feel that vibration in his intake immediately.

But Grimlock reached down to pry Misfire’s servo from his crotch, lightly chastising, “Patience,” before slipping around Misfire to settle on the edge of the berth next to Swerve. The minibot’s visor flared, possibly caught between nerves and arousal. It only continued to become nearly blinding when Grimlock’s massive servo lightly grasped his chin, lifting it while Grimlock leaned over so they were visor to visor.

Misfire’s spark felt as if it skipped a pulse when Grimlock bumped his mask against Swerve’s lips.

“You really wanna do this, Swerve?”

Swerve’s lips parted, gaping for a moment.

“I’m so fragging wet right now.”

Once it was said, Swerve immediately sucked his bottom lip between his denta while his visor flared again, this time with a shade of embarrassment. But Grimlock just hummed as he bumped his mask against his cheek.

“Oh, I already knew that. I could smell your lubricant from across the room.”

“Love when he does that,” Misfire murmured to himself, his servos finding his own panels to press against. He swore his spike was ready to bust a hole through the metal.

Swerve looked like he wasn’t fairing any better as his whole frame shuddered.

“But—but also, I mean, I like Misfire a lot, and I know how important to him you are, so I want to get to know you too.”

Misfire could hear the smirk in Grimlock’s voice as he said, “By seeing who can swallow more of my spike.”

And Swerve chuckled, though it was breathy with either nerves or lust or both.

“You’re also really hot and I love swallowing spike, so. Can’t say I don’t have my own shallow reasons for being here too.”

Grimlock’s systems purred at that and he pressed his mask in close again, though this time he lingered. There was no doubt in Misfire’s mind that he was letting little arcs of charge pass from his mask to Swerve’s lips in his version of a kiss, and it was clear from how Swerve softly moaned and kissed Grimlock’s mask purposefully that Swerve enjoyed the little nips the way Misfire did.

Misfire’s panels snapped open, spike pressurizing so quickly it hurt and lubricant instantly starting to drool down the insides of his thighs.

“Dibs on going first,” Misfire said, already sinking to his knees and shoving Grimlock’s apart to get at his goal. “Now stop holding back and give us the goods, Grim.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, ‘Daddy’,” Grimlock drawled.

Misfire’s engine revved hard, and somewhere in his processor he recognized that Swerve’s had as well with the kind of synchronicity that most would assume could only be achieved by split-spark twins.

Grimlock groaned a tired ex-vent as he said, “That was a  _joke_. It was  _not_ sexy.”

“Uh, yeah, it was–”

“–Yeah, no, that definitely was–”

“—wow that was  _hot–_ ”

“—definitely too sexy for porn–”

“—like, frag my entire aft, if my panels hadn’t already snapped–”

“—definitely made mine pop open–”

With a low growl, Grimlock pressed his mask hard against Swerve’s mouth while his modesty panel shifted away to let his spike pressurize, instantly capturing all of Misfire’s attention.

“Just shut up and get started already.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Misfire said as his servos grasped the spike that bobbed in front of him. He stroked it reverently for a moment, leaning in to rub his cheek against it and press a small kiss to the underside of the head.

Swerve had also gone quiet, though a glance made it clear he wasn’t distracted by Grimlock’s static-kisses anymore.

His visor was nearly white with a single-minded focus on Grimlock’s spike.

“Intimidated, pipsqueak?” Misfire teased before pressing his glossa to the base of Grimlock’s spike to drag up the long, long way to the head, emphasizing the length. Meanwhile his digits couldn’t touch around the base, indicating the sheer girth of the appendage. “Told you it was in proportion to his alt mode instead of his root.”

“Changing my alt didn’t change my spike,” Grimlock reminded him. There wasn’t any real venom there though, and the gentle pressure of a servo atop Misfire’s helm, thumb stroking along one of his finials, was much more telling than anything else. It teased a pleased hum from Misfire’s vocalizer.

“One of Primus’s chosen few then.”

Swerve shifted away from Grimlock’s side, looking like a mech possessed as he slid down to his pedes and braced his servos on Grimlock’s thigh, his visor not once leaving the show Misfire put on as he continued to kiss and stroke Grimlock.

“Well? Ready to admit defeat?” Misfire asked.

And, finally, Swerve’s visor flickered, comprehending.

And his face split in a wide grin.

“I’m gonna destroy that dino-dick.”

Misfire snorted, and then snickered, and then his helm was falling forward to rest in the crux of Grimlock’s hip as he vibrated with laughter.

“ _Dino-dick_. Slag me, that’s—that’s so fragging  _good_.”

It was Grimlock’s servo that gently pulled Misfire away again, tipping his helm back so they could make meet each other’s gaze.

“Focus, Misfire. I know you want to.”

Misfire’s grin softened.

“Dammit, you’re always right, Grim.”

With one last kiss to the tip, Misfire parted his lips and engulfed the head in one fell swoop, enjoying the simple joy of being able to swirl his glossa around it for a moment. He would have gladly taken his time in any other circumstance, but Swerve was leaning in closer, watching excitedly, and that only made Misfire’s spark race. Misfire loved an audience, and in this case also loved the audience.

Well, kinda.

Kinda loved. Might love someday, maybe, if the stars aligned right. Definitely didn’t already one hundred percent fall for the little minibot as hard as he  _definitely_ hadn’t already for Grimlock.

There was no love here. Just very strong like and a lot of lust.

Kinda.

Misfire’s spark thumped in his chest, so he flattened his tongue to make room as he pressed his helm down quickly, eager for the distraction.

His mouth was filled with the hot, pulsing length of Grimlock’s spike, familiar and exciting at once, and Misfire moaned as his optics nearly flickered offline. Normally he would let them go dark so he could focus on his intake, soothe his automatic response as he pushed past it, but—

But Swerve looked so enchanted as he licked his own lips.

::On a scale of 1 to 10, how hot do I look right now?::

Swerve’s visor flared with surprise before he laughed, and even Grimlock’s frame rumbled with amusement. Still, the servo on his helm pressed ever so slightly, insistent.

“Focus,” Grimlock reminded him. And Swerve actually nodded his agreement.

“Let’s just say hot enough that I really need you to focus because the sooner you finish, the sooner  _I_  get a spike in  _my_  mouth.”

::I can tell you where there’s a free spike that could use attention,:: Misfire pointed out, even as he stroked the bottom of Grimlock’s spike with his glossa as best he could with what little room was left in his mouth. Then, carefully, he pressed forward and let the head press against the calipers of his intake.

The warnings came and went as Misfire let the spike sink into his throat.

“I can’t tell you how tempting that is, but I’m not missing this show for anything,” Swerve said, his voice slightly laden with static.

Misfire’s array felt hot enough to melt and he could feel how transfluid beaded at the head of his spike to drip to the floor as his throat stretched around Grimlock, and each fraction forced his lips even wider yet.

::Hot enough that even my spike isn’t temptation enough to miss this? So it’s off the scale hot.::

“ _Focus_ ,” Grimlock insisted, his tone deeper and gruffer than before, and Misfire’s valve throbbed.

Oh, Grimlock was definitely getting into it.

Misfire finally let his optics offline as he pulled back until the spike was free of his throat, enjoying how it felt as it pulled against the lining and how twitched against his glossa. But there was a point to prove, so with a deep in-take, Misfire relaxed his autonomic reflex and slowly pressed forward again, spearing his mouth and throat on Grimlock.

Grimlock groaned and his hold tightened, though he did not push. They both knew that Misfire was going to give it his all this time.

Slowly, bit by bit, deeper and deeper and  _deeper_ –

Misfire’s servos clenched at Grimlock’s hips as he finally reached his limit, processor swimming in the pleasure and his hips wiggling as his thighs squeezed together tightly, desperate for stimulation to burn off the rush of charge that washed over him. Misfire whimpered – no, he moaned, he didn’t  _whimper_  – around the girth and bobbed so, so slightly, just to feel the burning drag. It took a long moment before he finally cleared his mind enough to unhook his grasp on Grimlock’s hip and move one of his servos to the base of Grimlock’s spike to see how much was left.

Two and a half digits widths, just like Misfire knew it would be. He had done this enough times to know the exact line he could straddle before it was too deep.

Misfire was slow to pull off the spike, savoring the overfull feeling, knowing his neck had to be bulging, showing the exact journey of the spike on its way out.

And Swerve was watching. There was no way he wasn’t. And judging by the roar of an engine much smaller than Misfire’s or Grimlock’s, Swerve was definitely getting off on it.

Finally, with an audible pop, Misfire let Grimlock’s spike go. It was shiny with his oral lubricants and Misfire swore he could see where the energon was pulsing hard beneath the malleable metal, throbbing with denied need.

“Well?” Misfire rasped smugly, winking at Swerve as his servo grasped Grimlock’s spike to pump it lazily. “ _Now_ you giving up, pip–”

Swerve’s servos had him by the sides of his helm seconds before he crashed their mouths together. Misfire was caught off guard, unable to defend himself as Swerve’s glossa swept between his lips, as his bottom lip was caught between Swerve’s dentae.

Misfire groaned as he kissed back.

But Swerve was gone almost as abruptly as he was there, pulling Misfire’s face away from his, and now Misfire could see how the minibot was running so hot he was panting to try to aid his cooling systems.

“Misfire, I love you, but I need you to move out of the way, like, immediately.”

Misfire could only hope his grin wasn’t goofy looking as his spark throbbed in his chest with emotion he dared not name. Still, he managed to tease, “Wow,  _somebody_ sure is eager to be proven the lesser spike swallower–”

“ _Misfire_ ,” Grimlock growled, sending a shiver down Misfire’s spine. Grimlock must have been  _really_ into it, and was always much more likely to order than beg.

And Misfire had no issue with that.

“Right, got it, focus. Get down here and let’s get you settled.”

“On your lap?” Swerve asked, as if he wasn’t already scrambling over Grimlock’s thigh, assisted by Grimlock’s servos to keep him from falling face first into either the ground or Misfire’s crotch, whichever came first.

“You’re gonna need a booster seat to reach, aren’t you?”

Swerve’s thigh spread wide across Misfire’s, his knees unable to touch the floor and give him any stability. Not that he would need it – Misfire sat back on his heels and his servos grabbed Swerve’s hips, holding his aft back and down against his lap.

Swerve’s valve painted his spike with slick.

“Oh frag, Misfire,  _please_ ,” Swerve moaned as his hips shimmied, his valve rocking against Misfire’s spike with desperation.

Misfire’s spike twitched with agreement.

“You sure it won’t distract you?”

“Nope, not at all, so come on, please, I’m dying here–”

Swerve blubbered worse than Misfire did once he reached the tipping point, and it was both adorable and hot.

“Hold on, I need you to lift up for a second–”

“I can’t—I can’t, my pedes can’t brace on the ground like this–”

Two powerful servos grasped Swerve by the hood, lifting him up enough that Misfire could reach down to grasp his own spike.

“Ohhhh frag that’s hot,” Swerve whined, and Misfire couldn’t help a chuckle as he nuzzled against Swerve’s hood where Grimlock had it tightly grasped. Apparently Grimlock agreed as his systems roared.

“Misfire, move your spike–”

“—Yep, already got it, Grim, so set him back down.”

And alright. Maybe Misfire whimpered as Grimlock lowered Swerve down onto his spike.

Loudly.

“Frag yeah, that’s so good.”

Swerve only moaned, brokenly and muffled, and Misfire’s optics onlined in a hurry as he realized what would be muffling him.

“Hey now, don’t start without me! I wanna watch the show,” Misfire complained, straightening his back as best he could to try to hook his chin over the top of Swerve’s hood. Unfortunately, even with his short stature, the hood added just enough height that Misfire could only barely peek over the top, and there was no way to see the action from there. Misfire started to shift and twist to the side, but he was delayed every time Swerve wiggled his hips or squeezed his calipers and Misfire swore he saw stars.

But then Grimlock moaned with surprise, his visor flickering as he cursed, “ _Frag–_ ”

“What? Come on, I can’t see—this was a great idea at first but I’m starting to see its fatal flaw,” Misfire whined, bouncing in place to try to see over Swerve’s hood. It resulted in Swerve whining and his valve pulsating around Misfire’s spike, and alright, the position still had its merits, but he couldn’t see!

But that was when there was a very soft “thunk”, and Misfire caught a glimpse of Swerve lifting a servo to press against Grimlock’s abdomen, prompting the mech to lean back. That allowed Swerve to lean further forward, and Misfire was able to put the pieces together, realizing that Swerve’s hood had met Grimlock’s plating so he needed Grimlock to shift back so the angle would let Swerve get his face in closer.

It also allowed Misfire enough room to lean forward and to the side so he could look around Swerve’s shoulder tire.

And Swerve—

Misfire’s processor went blank for a moment, uncomprehending, even as his spike throbbed inside the minibot’s valve, threatening to overload on the spot.

Swerve’s visor was offline and his face slack with serenity, despite how the plating of his neck bulged and his lips were stretched impossibly wide.

Those lips which were also pressed up against Grimlock’s spike housing.

Misfire’s cooling fans sputtered and hiccupped.

“That’s—you—but—but how?” Misfire managed.

Swerve hummed somewhere between pleasure and humor, and Grimlock’s chest arched up as Swerve’s hood creaked under his tightening grip.

“Don’t care,” Grimlock gritted out. His hips were quivering, no doubt from how hard he had to work to keep them from pumping up into what had to be the hottest, wettest,  _tightest_  heat.

Swerve pulled back to about where Misfire had been able to reach – the furthest he had been able to go without his gag reflex retriggering and so much the worse for it – and then slid back down again, looking beyond satisfied as the movement made his valve pulse around Misfire’s spike.

Lust burned in Misfire alongside intense jealousy.

“Well, I do!” Misfire insisted. “Come on, pipsqueak, contest is over and now it’s time for school because you have to tell me how the frag you’re doing that.”

::Minibot secret,:: Swerve replied, sounding far too pleased with himself in more than one sense of the phrase.

Misfire whined, and even he could admit it was petulant.

“Come on, don’t tease. Do you have any idea how badly I want to be able to do that?”

::Sworn to secrecy by Micronus Himself.::

Misfire pursed his lips, caught between how fascinated he was by the sight and how fragging good Swerve felt wiggling on his spike and how desperately –  _desperately_ – he wanted to be the one with Grimlock’s spike fully sheaved in his mouth.

Luckily, that was when inspiration struck.

Misfire’s servos shifted from where he had them clenched tight around Swerve’s hips, instead letting them stroke the warm plating reverently, and he pressed a couple of open-mouthed kisses to Swerve’s tire. He rolled his hips up into Swerve slowly, almost lovingly.

“Please, Daddy?”

Swerve’s visor flared to life and he choked. Somewhere above them Grimlock hissed as Swerve’s throat momentarily convulsed, but the minibot was able to get it under control before pulling himself all the way off of the spike with a gasp.

Misfire would have felt bad if Swerve’s hips weren’t dancing in his lap, jerking and rolling to get more friction from Misfire’s spike as the inner lining throbbed around him.

“ _Misfire_!” Swerve rasped, shooting him a look even as he continued to bounce on Misfire’s lap, dragging a groan from them both. “That’s—h-haaah, slaggin’ hell, that’s not fair at  _all_.”

“It’s an art and I’ve mastered it.”

Grimlock shifted on the berth, and while there wasn’t a mouth to really indicate his mood, his visor was just the right shade to let Misfire know he wasn’t truly mad. Exasperated and frustrated, sure, but not mad.

Not like the way his spike throbbed almost angrily at him, yet again denied release.

“So, now that I’ve shown you mine, show me yours?”

Swerve laughed breathlessly, but his hips did slow as the minibot visibly strained to reign himself in from the edge of overload.

“Yeah, yeah, just – hold on, that means I have to move out of the way, so just – mmm  _frag_ , just give me a second to get off.”

Misfire’s servos tightened around Swerve’s hips. Sure, his throat wanted Grimlock’s spike, but his own spike was very,  _very_ much in favor of staying in the perfect valve surrounding it.

“That’s the idea, and your valve is where I want to do it.”

Grimlock groaned, but he also sat up properly again.

“Misfire, you can’t have both.”

“Don’t tell me can’t,” Misfire retorted as he considered his position. No, he couldn’t reach over the hood, but Swerve had some range of motion with his helm, able to lean it forward out of the hood. “We definitely can—hold on, stand up and face me–”

“Ok, hold on—hah–!”

“I know, but I’ll be back in there soon, pipsqueak, so just—whoa, watch it–!”

“I’ve got ‘im,” Grimlock said as he caught Swerve under his arms before the minibot’s wobby knees went out from under him. Carefully they all worked together to get Swerve back on Misfire’s lap, and this time it was even better to have Grimlock placing Swerve on Misfire’s spike since he could watch Swerve’s jaw drop and visor flicker.

And alright, Misfire whimpered again and his hips pumped a couple times before he could stop himself.

“There’s my beautiful buddy. Now, we just lean you back, and—tadaa!”

Swerve’s frame was nearly bent in two, caught between where his hood was braced back against the edge of the berth just below where Grimlock’s spike stood proud, and where his valve was pierced on Misfire’s spike. Not that he seemed to mind as his thighs tightened around Misfire’s waist, experimentally rolling a couple times and mewling.

It left just enough room for Misfire to lean forward to suck Grimlock’s spike.

“Not bad,” Grimlock commented, casual despite his servo now wrapped around his spike, his strokes slicked with both Swerve and Misfire’s oral lubricants.

Misfire’s spike throbbed as he managed, “Told you I – oh frag, Swerve, pipsqueak, you gotta stop that or I’m gonna overload and waste all this work.”

“Spoilsport,” Swerve said, but he did smile, wobbly and adorable. His hips finally stilled, his thighs tight around Misfire’s hips and his pedes pressed against Misfire’s aft and lower back, trapping Misfire inside his valve. “But alright. It’s the secondary reflex that’s tripping you up, right?”

Misfire was already batting away Grimlock’s servos, eager to wrap his own around the slick spike again, even as his optics dimmed with confusion.

“Secondary reflex?”

“Standard sized mechs,” Swerve ex-vented, faking exasperation as if he wasn’t looking far too smug. “What most consider the titular ‘gag reflex’ at the front of their intake is just the primary reflex system. You have a secondary and tertiary one further down.”

Misfire looked up to Grimlock who shrugged, not appearing to have any idea what the minibot was talking about either.

“Sounds fake, but ok.”

The light of Swerve’s visor rolled from one side to the other.

“Standard sized mechs don’t usually know about it since it’s rare they find a partner with a spike long enough to reach anything past the primary system. But because the proportions are scaled down for minibots, it’s not uncommon for a slightly larger than average spike to reach it.”

Misfire’s optics brightened and he glanced down at Swerve.

“Does that include mine?”

Swerve offlined half his visor in a wink, replying, “Yep.”

“Nice.”

Sharing a high five seemed to finally be the breaking point for Grimlock as he reached down for Misfire’s chin, tipping it back up.

“ _Focus_.”

Misfire’s spark warmed as he smiled up at Grimlock.

“Love when you do that.”

And Grimlock’s visor twinkled.

“I know. Now get on with it.”

“It’ll be easier to do while you’re down there,” Swerve agreed, tightening his valve in a way that was both erotic and, weirdly, supportive.

And Misfire didn’t need to be told twice. He followed Grimlock’s servo, opening with ease and, with one slow but continuous motion, swallowed Grimlock’s spike.

The difference this time was that Swerve’s digits drifted up to his neck, tracing the bulge as it filled Misfire. Something about the physical reminders, both inside and out, of how deep he was taking Grimlock had Misfire shuddering. He reached out blindly – one servo grasping at Grimlock’s hip again while the other moved down towards Swerve.

Swerve’s digits intertwined with Misfire’s and Grimlock stroked his helm gently.

Misfire shivered again, harder than before, as he moaned.

But, as he had before, Misfire reached that point of no return and stopped. His processor was hazy, overwhelmed by the sensations of his full throat and his captured spike and his empty valve. But where before it would have been incredibly satisfying, now there was need gripping him all the harder, knowing it could be even better, even deeper and fuller.

“I’m assuming that’s the spot.”

“Yeah,” Grimlock replied for him. Grimlock’s thumb drifted to the circumference of Misfire’s lips, tracing them, and Misfire couldn’t have held back his moan even if he had wanted to. “He’ll have a fit if he goes further.”

“Definitely his secondary system. It’s a safety net for if the primary fails to catch something. It triggers the whole intake system to force the intrusion out, so it’s way worse than just gagging.”

Swerve’s digit swirled around the end of the bulge before slipping further down where it didn’t reach, and Misfire whined with the realization of just how much Grimlock’s spike distended his throat.

“Use the touch of my digit here to help track down the secondary reflex coding.”

Easier said than done. Suppressing his gag was easy because Misfire’s processor was usually clearer at the start of a blowjob and he knew exactly where the coding was. But now his mind was out of focus, his coding feeling a million miles away.

::I can’t–::

“Don’t say can’t,” Grimlock reminded him, soft and sweet and warming Misfire from the inside out. Misfire let his helm lean just a bit into Grimlock’s servo that petted him. “Just relax and then focus.”

“You’ve totally got this, Misfire. It’s going to look a lot like the coding you subdue to let it into your intake,” Swerve added, his servo squeezing Misfire’s while the other curled around the side of his neck, keeping his thumb on the spot that Misfire needed to focus on. It occurred to Misfire on some small level that a hand around his neck shouldn’t have been nice, even if Swerve meant it to be, but since when had his processor ever made the right connections?

Because instead of registering as a possible threat, it felt like a gesture of love on par with the servo threaded with his and Grimlock’s soft rumbling encouragement as he petted him.

::But seriously, how hot?::

Swerve laughed and Grimlock snorted.

“Oh, off the scale, for sure.”

“Definitely.”

Misfire’s spark felt hot enough to melt out of his chest and his array throbbed with impending overload.

And there it was. Coding both new to him but familiar looking.

And Misfire made a sound that even he would admit was nearly a sob as he sunk down, his neck cabling distending against Swerve’s thumb as he swallowed down the rest of Grimlock’s spike until his lips pressed solidly against the housing.

It was so hot and thick and deep inside Misfire, feeling somehow bigger than it ever had in his valve, and Misfire could feel the pulsing of a major energon line against his glossa, so quick, clearly on the edge of overload–

::Grim, Grim, come on, give it to me, Grim,  _Grim_ –::

“Easy,” Grimlock purred. His large servo encompassed the one Misfire had dug into his hip, holding and squeezing it, while his other servo that had been petting moved to grasp him firmly by one of his helm ornament. “I’ll give it to you.”

In the span of seconds, too much happened for Misfire to keep track of it all – the way Grimlock pulled him back, halfway down his spike, and then shoved him back down, filling and  _taking_ as his spike twitched in his throat, and the way that Misfire’s own hips jerked and Swerve’s servo squeezed around his own as he gasped and babbled, and the way Swerve’s servo shivered against his neck while Grimlock pulled out and pushed back in  _again_ , and the way Grimlock  _snarled_  and pinned Misfire’s lips to his pelvis, holding and  _claiming_  as he spilled down Misfire’s throat and Swerve’s valve milked Misfire’s spike for his–

And then Misfire was overloading with a smothered shout.

It was a damned good overload.

It was the sort that left him in a blissful daze as he came down from the high, malleable in Grimlock’s servos as he was pulled off and away, more aware of the pleasurable thrumming of his frame than anything going on around him. It was easier to just watch as his lover’s spike drooled out the last of his own overload, the liquid thick and collecting before it actually dripped down.

It was only when Misfire realized who it had dripped onto that at least some of his processor came back online.

Swerve was wriggling on his lap, visor overbright and mouth hanging open as he panted. Misfire noticed that one of his servos was still caught up in Swerve’s, clenched tight by the minibot, but Swerve’s other servo was down around his own spike, pumping it.

Misfire’s optics rebooted.

“Oh,” Misfire said dumbly, realizing that Swerve hadn’t managed to overload with them, and his depressurizing spike wouldn’t be helping his little lover reach it.

“It’s—hnn, it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m close, it’s fine, I can–”

And then, from one moment to the next, Swerve was lifted up and away, caught up in Grimlock’s powerful arms. Misfire wondered if Grimlock realized that Swerve wasn’t actually settled in his lap, but just held above it and against his chest, dangling as Grimlock nuzzled against the back of his hood.

“Consultation fee,” Grimlock rumbled teasingly as he sunk two of his digits into Swerve’s lubricant and transfluid drenched valve.

Swerve wailed, hips rolling down in an attempt to frag himself on Grimlock’s servo while his own scrambled to grab the arm braced under his and around his chest.

“Please, I—I want – haaah, frag, fragfrag _frag, please_ , give me your servo—”

Grimlock hummed as he shifted his arm so his servo was in front of Swerve’s mouth, and Misfire wasn’t exactly sure what for, until Swerve opened his mouth wider and Grimlock pushed two digits into his mouth and down his throat, pumping them in sync with the digits in Swerve’s valve.

Swerve’s frame twisted and writhed and his visor flared blindingly bright as finally he overloaded with a sob. Lubricants and transfluid dribbled between Grimlock’s digits onto his servo and down his arm, and Swerve’s spike twitched as his own transfluid shot out in bursts.

Misfire couldn’t help snickering as some drops of it landed on the face while the rest landed haphazardly across his frame.

He couldn’t ask for a better end to a fragfest.

Enough of his processor was back online that Misfire finally pushed himself to his pedes, only one of his knees giving a threatening wobble before it straightened out. He now looked down at where Swerve was finally settled in Grimlock’s lap, his frame struggling to cool itself, but judging by the look on his face, Swerve was deep in his own blissful daze.

Misfire leaned down, catching Swerve by the chin so he could place a kiss on his lips.

“Thanks for the lesson, Daddy.”

Swerve giggled, tilting his helm up for another kiss, and Misfire could hardly deny him.

“I think we can consider ourselves officially acquainted now,” Grimlock murmured, still nuzzling against Swerve’s hood. He held out one of his servos towards Misfire, and he couldn’t quite tell at a glance what type of lubricant was slicking it.

Misfire eagerly took it and leaned over Swerve’s helm for a static kiss from Grimlock.

“Oh, I think the two of you are more than acquainted now.”

“Mm, yeah. I could definitely see doing that again,” Swerve said, and when Misfire glanced down at him, the minibot was grinning at him. “What d’you say, Grim? Wanna get dinner tomorrow or something?”

“I can find time.”

Misfire went still, his optics flicking between the two of them.

“With me too, right? You mean you two  _and_ me.”

“Maybe.”

“If you can fit it in your schedule.”

Misfire pouted, even as he got up onto the berth, tugging at Grimlock’s shoulder to lay back with him.

“Hey, nuh-uh. You’re  _my_ boyfriends, and you’re not allowed to run off without me,” Misfire insisted. Swerve was halfway to straddling him, clearly intending to collapse on top of him, and Grimlock was resting his weight on his elbow.

Now, however, both of them looked at him with keen interest.

“‘Boyfriends’, huh?” Grimlock asked, clearly amused but with something serious beneath it.

Misfire’s worked his intake, and he knew the tightness forming there wasn’t just from overworking it on Grimlock’s spike.

“Really? Like, really really?” Swerve asked, clearly eager but trying to restrain his enthusiasm.

Yet, despite any reactionary nerves that manifested at the idea, Misfire’s spark held nothing but contented warmth.

Alright, maybe he did love them.

A lot.

“I mean, I said it, didn’t I? So I guess you’re my boyfriends.”

Swerve may have been a minibot, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still cover a lot of ground as he blanketed Misfire’s frame, hugging him tightly. Barely seconds went by before, with the whirling of transformation, both of them were engulfed by Grimlock’s alt mode wrapped around them like an overly warm cocoon.

And alright. He could definitely come to love this.


End file.
